Ode to Bruges
It’s a cold, sunny day as I step out of the train. It’s the early afternoon. I hurry towards the nearest exit and follow a herd of people hoping they would lead me to the heart of the town.
Bruges is busy today. Couples, old and young, strolling hand in hand. Families, students, friends and a couple of lone rangers like me, holding on to our serene solitude.
I whip out my camera, taking as many pictures as I can. Capturing the essence of the place. Whatever that means… One or two will be good enough for Instagram.
As I enter the Cathedral, my impulsive ‘Photographing everything’ disorder somehow disappears. There is no sign that forbids it, no rule against it, yet I don’t want to. There is an ominous feeling that tells me it wouldn’t be right.
It is very quiet inside. I can only hear the faint sound of people’s footsteps as we solemnly admire the showcase of biblical artwork. The respect we show has nothing to do with religion. It is merely acknowledging a relic of the past. A witness of History of Men.
Bruges itself is a relic of the past. A medieval prosperous city of the 14th century propelled into the modern era. From the Horse drawn carriage rides to the seemingly untouched Gothic architecture, Bruges did seem like it was frozen in time.
I gaze upon the city from the top of the Belfry and I think of that brilliant movie by Martin McDonagh.
Harry: It’s a fairytale town, isn’t it? How’s a fairytale town not somebody’s fucking thing?How can all those canals and bridges and cobbled streets and those churches, all that beautiful fucking fairytale stuff, how can that not be somebody’s fucking thing, eh? – In Bruges (2008)
Would not have described it better Harry.
Cheers – À Bientôt – สวัสดีค่ะ